


Parenthood

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: A collection of parenting snapshots of Percy and Annabeth that I didn't expect to become a multichapter fic but did anyway, because I can never control my words.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 179





	1. Defeating Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this fic contains themes of depression and postpartum depression. Please be advised should this be a trigger for you. Sending love.
> 
> For the prompt "Why are your lying?" on tumblr from Anonymous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth can’t meet Percy’s eyes. “No.”
> 
> “Why are you lying to me?” he asks, and the broken, gentle tone is enough to force Annabeth’s head up. “I’ve known you for 15 years. I know when you aren’t okay.”

Annabeth can’t meet Percy’s eyes. “No.”

“Why are you lying to me?” he asks, and the broken, gentle tone is enough to force Annabeth’s head up. “I’ve known you for 15 years. I know when you aren’t okay.”

She can’t talk. If she talks, the tears come. And if the tears come, if that dam breaks, then the rest of her horrible thoughts will come pouring out, and Percy won’t love her anymore. 

She can’t stop it.

“Annabeth,” Percy says, and his voice is so soft and loving that she has to. She has to admit it. It’s not fair to him.

“You’re too good,” she whispers, before she says it. “I hate being a mom. I’m too bad at it. I c - I can't do it.” She can't hold his gaze.

She waits for him to leave. She waits for him to take Alexandra, pick her up and whisk her away from Annabeth. It’s what she deserves. She deserves better than Annabeth.

To her surprise, she feels Percy pull her into a hug, fierce and protective and safe, and she collapses again. Most of her weight is on Percy as he walks them over to the couch, and she collapses against him, letting all the despair and exhaustion pour out of her.

He says nothing, just holds her tight, kissing the top of her head and holding her hands, until she calms down.

“I’m sorry,” she weeps, “I’m sorry I’m not good enough.”

“Hey,” says Percy, and it’s that tone. The one he only uses in a battle.

She supposes this is a kind of battle.

She lifts her head. 

“Annabeth, you are better than enough,” he says, and she gets a jolt when she realizes his eyes are wet too. “This is HARD. Everything about this is hard. But...” He pauses. This is it. This is when he leaves. “But I think we need to take you to the doctor.”

“Me?” she asks. “No, no, we need to take Ali. She’s the one who could be sick.”

Percy shakes his head. “Ali is perfect,” he insists. “You are doing an incredible job. The fact that you can’t see it is why I’m worried about you.”

Somewhere in the back of her guilt-soaked mind the words Postpartum Depression float in from of her eyes. They told her it was a possibility, but she’s just now realizing that she didn’t even think of that. “Oh.”

“There you go,” he says, gentle and soft, “You've that look when you’ve figured out how to spell a weird word.”

She stays quiet, trying to believe it.

“We know about this,” Percy says, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her closer. “Remember? My mom told us it was something to look out for.”

“I forgot,” Annabeth replies, and she’s starting to honestly remember the last few weeks since Ali was born. Sleepless nights. Colic. Fielding calls from friends and family who want to visit. And Percy, who only got time off of work a week after Ali was born because Ali came two weeks early, which was also stressful. “Oh.”

“We can take you to a mortal doctor, or we can take you to Will,” Percy says, softly, “or we can go to both. But part of my job is to make sure you’re okay. And you’re not okay. Not right now.”

Annabeth still feels the fog trying to block out her rational thoughts. “I haven’t been me,” she says quietly.

“Not quite,” Percy says, “but you’ve been an amazing mom. And you’ll always be you. But you just need a little help, okay?”

She nods. 

~

It takes six weeks and two different medications, both mortal and not so, to get Annabeth back to feeling something like normal. She starts to notice the positive things again, and realizes how critical she’d been on herself.

One morning, while breastfeeding Ali (she’s gotten better at latching, Annabeth is elated), Annabeth mentions it to Percy.

“Oh, doing a self analysis,” he says, “there’s my girl.”

“Girls,” Annabeth corrects, nodding down to Ali. She’s starting to get chubby, adorable rubber band wrists and little toes that like to press against Annabeth’s arms, soft beyond anything she’s been able to appreciate before. She wants to be angry at herself for missing this for the past 10 weeks, but she lets it go. She's learned to let a lot of things go. Her therapist is teaching how to do it. 

Sally’s helped her get through it, too. Athena, not so much. Just four weeks ago Athena had asked her why she can’t just “snap out of it.” Annabeth hasn’t spoken to her since. 

“And you’re correcting me again,” Percy says, but there’s no venom in the voice. He’s smiling softly, those sea green eyes sending her into a swoon. Luckily, she’s sitting. “See? My girl.”

“Your girls,” Annabeth says again, and the smile she gets back, along with the coo from Ali, make her realize: she doesn’t hate being a mom. She loves it, now that she’s herself again. And she thinks she might just be good at it now.

“My girls,” Percy says with a reverence usually saved for a church. “Always.”


	2. Ikea Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to assemble an Ikea bed. They fail at assembling an Ikea bed. 
> 
> They want to give up on the Ikea bed.
> 
> But Ali.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is going to be multichapter? I'm fine with it.  
> ~  
> For the prompt "Well, I'm never buying Ikea furniture again," on tumblr by Anonymous.

“Well shit,” Percy says, and Annabeth thinks it sums the situation up pretty well.

“No kidding,” she agrees.

“I’m not buying Ikea furniture again,” Percy says, staring at the mess of wood and plastic and weird little screws all over the floor. “How did we put it in upside down?”

“Don’t ask me.” Annabeth looks at it from the side. “You, sure. Me?” She shakes her head, feeling a bit ashamed. “I’m supposed to be good at this kind of stuff.”

Percy grins up at her. “Ooh. That’s almost Annabeth Chase Jackson admitting to a mistake.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “Those are fighting words.”

He shrugs. “I like what happens when we fight.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Annabeth can’t help herself and cracks up, snorting a little bit with the laughter.

And then –

“Aw, gods,” Annabeth groans. “I woke her up.”

From their bedroom they hear a slightly muffled, “Daddy!”

“I got her,” Percy says. “You – this.” He huffs, looking down at the mess. “You are more likely to fix this than I am.”

Percy walks out of the room and over to their little one. She’s turning two next month, and Annabeth can hardly remember the first few weeks, where she hated her new role as mother.

It almost hurts how much she loves it now. The idea of Ali and Percy is everything she could have dreamed of as a kid. Her own family.

“I’m calling your sister,” Annabeth decides, because she’s getting sentimental and she needs to snap out of it. “She can usually figure this stuff out.”

“That’s only because she doesn’t have parent brain,” Percy shoots back. “It’s not our fault. It’s the two years of sleep deprivation.”

Annabeth is inclined to agree.

Estelle, however, is not.

“Wait, you’re asking me for help?” Estelle asks. “In building something?” Annabeth kind of hates the smugness on Estelle's face. “AC, you’re becoming humble.”

“Can it, kid,” Annabeth laughs. “I call you only because you have a weird superpower when it comes to Ikea.”

Estelle scoffs. “Okay, yeah,” she says, “you’re a super genius and Percy can control water, but I’m the one with the superpower.”

“You’re twelve and you rebuilt your parents kitchen for their anniversary,” Annabeth deadpans. “That’s actually useful.”

Estelle shrugs, but even the shoddy connection on Annabeth’s old school smart phone face time doesn’t cover up Estelle’s pre-teen pride at being complimented. “Bring me to the disaster.”

Even with Estelle’s help, they don’t get anywhere. Not to mention Ali rolling around on the floor singing some song about ducks and grapes, it’s hard to feel like there’s any success. “I don’t know what to do,” Estelle says with a sigh, “and I don’t like that.”

“Ali can wait for her big girl bed, I suppose,” Annabeth says.

And then Ali does it. That look. THAT LOOK. She thought Percy had learned it over the years, honed it to get Annabeth swooning in moments.

But then she realized it must be genetic, because Ali does it too, and started it from the day she was born.

“Mama,” Ali says, with those eyes.

Annabeth sighs. “Okay, baby, we’ll figure it out.”

Estelle looks baffled. “How?!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Somehow.” Because she can’t stand the idea of not doing what those big green eyes request.

~

“That sucked,” Annabeth says. She’s laying on the floor next to the bed frame they managed to get together. Her shoulders ache in ways she hasn’t felt since her training days, her thighs feel like she’s done eight hundred squats, and there’s a chance she pulled a muscle in her neck.

“Language,” teases Estelle from the corner of the room. Sally had dropped her off two hours before to put together the bed, because even Estelle was determined to finish it once Ali saw her over face time and asked, “Aunnie Sell?”

“Oh, shush, you,” Annabeth replies, but Estelle is right: Ali may be asleep, but the kid is a sponge for anything you don’t want her to hear or say.

“I have the waters,” Percy says, “wish I could have just summoned these from the kitchen or something.” He looks at them. "Weird I can't just swoop these up."

“Yeah, that power of yours is super unhelpful in real life,” Estelle muses, but she stops smiling when she misses Percy’s toss and the water bottle pelts her in the forehead. “Ow.”

“I do not take responsibility for your lack of athletic skill,” Percy says, opening his water. “That’s all Mom’s fault.”

“Well, you couldn’t put together a toddler bed, so.” Estelle does that little head tilt, that’s a little more infuriating than a twelve year old should be. Annabeth begins to worry about more than just words Ali will pick up from Estelle.

“Fair,” Percy says, because he learned a long time ago how pointless it is to argue with Estelle. “It’s late. Want me to drive you home?”

Estelle pouts. “Can’t I take the subway?”

“No,” Annabeth and Percy say at the same time

Estelle groans. “You guys are worse than Mom.” She pouts, which doesn’t actually do anything to help her case. “I’ve ridden it by myself before!”

“Yes, one stop up to the bodega, where Mom was on the phone with Senora Castillo the whole time and your dad was at the subway station coming back.”

Estelle sighs. “No subway?”

Annabeth and Percy shake their heads in tandem.

“Ugh. Old people.”

Annabeth’s offended shriek wakes Ali up from where she dozed off on her mattress. “Mama?”

Annabeth regrets her volume immediately. “It’s okay, Als, Auntie Stell was just being mean.”

Ali frowns. “Aunnie Sell?”

“I was not being mean,” Estelle argues. “I was being right.”

Ali looks between Estelle and Annabeth. Then she looks over at Percy. “Daddy?”

He puts his hands in front of him. “Don’t look at me, guppy, I got no idea.”

Ali blinks, then turns to Annabeth and demands, “Boop.”

“Book?” Annabeth asks.

Ali nods. “Boop.”

Annabeth scoops Ali up. “I got the kid, you got the preteen,” she determines. “We’ll see you later.”

“Aunnie Sell boop,” Ali insists.

With a collective sigh, Annabeth and Percy share one of their Looks, and they make the decision.

“We’ll set up the guest bed for you, Stell, as long as you don’t mind sleeping in here with Ali,” Annabeth says.

Estelle brightens and Ali claps her chubby little hands. “Come on, Ali,” Estelle says, scooping the giggling toddler from Annabeth’s arms, “let’s read.”


	3. Blue (Da Ba Dee)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there's a definite chance Annabeth shouldn't have left Percy hold with Estelle and Ali for an entire day without checking in.  
> Prompt: “It’s your turn to make dinner.”

When Annabeth gets home, the first thing she notices are the blue handprints on the wall by the door.

“Huh,” she says. “Hello?” There's no answer until she walks a little farther into the house. "Fellow Jacksons?"

“Help,” she hears. It’s a tiny, meek voice that definitely doesn’t match who it belongs to.

She drops her things in the hallway and makes her way to the living room, trying not to panic. “Where are you guys?”

“Living room,” Percy calls, but it’s still the same amount of…something.

Annabeth rounds the corner to the living room, and she has to press her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Not funny,” Percy says, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Help?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth says, looking at Percy. “I like the blue hair.”

“We had to tie him up to make it work, Mommy,” Ali says, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. “And Aunnie Sel knows how to do sayer’s knots.”

“Sailor’s knots,” Percy corrects. “Yeesh, granddaughter of Poseidon and she can’t even identify a clove hitch from a bowline.”

"Nobody but you two can do that," Annabeth corrects, nodding to him and Estelle.

“"Yeah," says Estelle, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Percy, you taught me how to do that. This is your fault."

"Worst idea I've ever had," Percy grumbles.

“Nah, I like this idea,” Annabeth says, walking around and peering into the blue-streaked black. “The blue suits you.”

“Daddy likes blue,” Ali says, an authoritative tone in her voice. “So we made him blue.”

“Da ba dee, da ba die,” Percy sings.

The three girls turn to him. “What now?” Annabeth asks.

“Eiffel 65? Anybody?” He looks to each of them. “Nobody?”

Annabeth shakes her head.

Percy shakes his head. “I always forget you lived a childhood away from pop culture,” and he actually looks sad as he says it.

Estelle pulls out her phone. “Found it.”

She plays it, and Annabeth thinks she remembers it vaguely, but Estelle just stares at her phone.

“This sounds like a dying frog,” she says. She finally looks up, a half horrified, half disgusted look on her face. “This is awful.”

“This is a classic 90's hit!" Percy argues, "and you should honor it, as you covered me in blue."

That’s when Annabeth realizes the distinct lack of paint or hair dye in the room, which, actually, is probably a good thing. Except for Percy's hair. “What – what exactly is the blue?”

“Daddy’s hair.”

Annabeth turns to Ali. “Well, yes, okay, but what made Daddy’s hair blue?”

Ali looks at Annabeth in a very strange way, something that makes her feel odd. “Me an’ Aunnie Sell," Alie says slowly.

Percy snickers. “Okay, I know I’m the one tied up, but the look on your face, Annabeth, now you know what your know-it-all expression feels like from the other side.”

“Can one of you just tell me what is making your hair blue?” Annabeth asks. She tries to sound firm, but the whole situation is so ridiculous that she kind of can’t.

“Oil pastels,” Percy says.

Annabeth raises a single eyebrow. “Which,” she says carefully, “oil pastels.”

“Not the ones from your office,” Estelle says, hands up. “We know better than to go in there.”

Annabeth relaxes. “Well, just to let you know, that stuff doesn’t come out without, like. Six or seven washes.”

Ali giggles. “Blue hair Daddy forever.”

“Hey, if you have blue hair, maybe Mom will let me dye my hair purple!” Estelle says. “Oh, this is perfect. Hold still.”

“The ropes are not going to do anything for your argument,” Annabeth says. “But it’s not my place to say.”

“Good point,” says Estelle.

“Awesome, because I’d really love to get out of – ”

She gets closer to Percy. “It’s all about framing. Cut out everything but the face.” The flash goes off. Annabeth can’t imagine Percy’s face was any kind of smiling. “Perfect.”

"This is the worst thing to happen to me since Apollo," Percy grumbles, pouting. "Help me get out of here?"

Annabeth agrees and starts undoing the Estelle's surprisingly skilled knots, and Percy flops face down on the floor. "This is the worst."

“Did you forget it’s your turn to make dinner?” Annabeth asks, grinning.

Percy pouts. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

"Wait," Estelle says, "think about it, Percy. I think eating Annabeth’s cooking would make all of us suffer.”

Annabeth can’t get any of them to stop laughing, so she gives in and orders pizza.

“Make sure the cheese isn’t too spicy for you!” Estelle shouts as Annabeth goes to take her first bite, making the rest of them dissolve into hysterical laughter again.


End file.
